


start a war

by jaylocked



Series: the foxhole - coffee shop au [2]
Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Andrew POV, M/M, Smoking, and hopefully fun to read, andrew is a dramatic shit, i don't drink coffee can you tell, so that's fun to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 20:11:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7329130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaylocked/pseuds/jaylocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andrew pretends that it’s out of spite that he pours a ridiculous amount of sugar into the drink. He pretends that he’s not disappointed at the lack of reaction when the boy merely raises an eyebrow at Andrew before leaving the shop. He pretends that he doesn’t think about the mystery boy later, trying to decode his careful movements and haunted eyes.</p><p>(He’s never been good at pretending, no matter how unreadable the rest of the world finds him.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	start a war

**Author's Note:**

> don't think there are any warnings other than smoking?
> 
> title from song by the national of the same name
> 
> (also this was written with the assumption that you've read part one of the series, but i think it should work without it? not sure. the very end may not make sense but otherwise i think it should...)

The mornings are always the quietest time in the Foxhole, when there’re a few sleepy customers rolling through with minimal chatter and maximum excitement over the caffeine that will soon be entering their systems.

It is for this reason, of course, that everybody forces Andrew to work the morning shifts. He doesn’t mind (not that he ever minds anything these days, not really) because it’s an excuse to leave his nightmares behind far earlier that would otherwise be normal. Nicky gets dragged along because he causes the least problems when behind the counter with his cousin.

(Andrew and Kevin got into four fights, broke two machines, and yelled at five customers before they were officially banned from ever working together. He and Aaron said nothing to any customers, except what they owed, in the least friendly four hours in Foxhole history. Dan glares in a confused, angry way, Allison makes snide remarks under her breath, and Matt alternates between uncomfortable silence and questioning glances. Renee is fine, but nobody really likes putting them together, for some reason. Thus...Nicky.)

Andrew is just finishing up a latte and a hot chocolate (it’s the end of August, so the order perplexes him, but he’s no stranger to just wanting some sugar asap) when the door opens again. He shoots a glance to the door as he sets the drinks down, ignoring the customers as they come to retrieve them.

Instead, he finds himself studying the boy who’s just walked in. He’s a touch taller than Andrew, with auburn hair that just curls over his ears, pale, blue eyes, and a wiry runner’s physique. There’s sweat sticking his shirt to his body, but his breathing looks even as he slowly walks up to Nicky. He’s annoyingly attractive, with an angular face and striking coloring, even with the scars that run along his cheeks.

What really catches Andrew’s attention, however, is how he holds himself. He’s curled slightly inwards, like he can avoid detection by making himself smaller. He stays light on his feet, almost looking like he’s ready to run. He looks uncomfortable as Nicky talks to him, eyes flicking around the coffee shop quickly.

“And can I have a name to go with that, handsome?”

“There’re three other people in here right now. I don’t think there will be any confusion when it comes to claiming my drink.”

And that– well, that’s almost funny. Of course he ordered a black coffee, the most boring thing on the menu.

Without really thinking about it, Andrew sets about preparing a coffee how he likes it when he can bring himself to have some– three sugars and a splash of milk.

Maybe it’s annoyance over how cute this running boy is. (Andrew, of course, hates finding anybody or anything attractive. It’s easier to remain unattached and apathetic if he can ignore everybody and everything.) Maybe it’s some weird desire to break him of his attempts to blend into the background. Maybe it’s to see what running boy will do, if he’ll yell at Andrew or ask politely for another drink or stalk out angrily.

Andrew watches, face carefully blank, as the boy grabs the coffee and takes a sip. After a moment, he frowns down at it, glances back at Andrew, and then leaves the store with a small shrug.

Damn. Maybe Andrew had been hoping for more of a reaction than that, and that in itself was annoying– what had he told himself about hoping for things?

“He sure was cute,” Nicky hums as the door closes behind the boy. “I’m sure Erik wouldn’t mind...”

Andrew glares at his cousin. “What have I told you about chatter during a shift? And keep your hands to yourself.”  
  
Nicky pouts. “ _Somebody’s_ touchy this morning...”

Andrew ignores his cousin for the rest of the shift, but he can’t quite shake the blue eyes from before.

* * *

It’s a month before he sees runner boy again. He strolls into the shop, noticeably more comfortable now than he was before in the bright interior, but the bags under his eyes speak volumes.

Nicky perks up immediately, chatting in that overly friendly way of his that Andrew hates, as the boy walks up to the counter. He’s sweaty again, like he just finished a long run, as he pays for the drink. He’s still curled in on himself, but today he looks weary, like last night had been hell.

Maybe, Andrew thinks for an inexplicably uncontrolled moment, he has nightmares too, knows what it’s like to wake up and relearn how to exist in a world with that much pain in it.

God dammit, what had he told himself about shit like that? He can’t project. He shouldn’t pretend that anybody else has all the fucked up shit behind them that he does, much less attractive strangers with curious posture.

He pretends that it’s out of spite that he pours a ridiculous amount of sugar into the drink. He pretends that he’s not disappointed at the lack of reaction when the boy merely raises an eyebrow at Andrew before leaving the shop. He pretends that he doesn’t think about the mystery boy later, trying to decode his careful movements and haunted eyes.

(He’s never been good at pretending, no matter how unreadable the rest of the world finds him.)

* * *

It becomes a habit. Mystery boy walks in, post-workout and glistening and fucking _pretty_ , and Andrew whips up any variation of coffee that he can think of. Nicky doesn’t notice, because Nicky’s an idiot, but he does cease his comments to the runner after Andrew has words with him.

Andrew thinks he’s probably memorized the boy’s face, the crease between his eyebrows as he frowns into the distance, the way he balances between looking deeply uncomfortable and perfectly neutral. It’s something Andrew himself does, after all, and– he stops himself from projecting any further on the boy.

One day, a week before Thanksgiving, Andrew is regrettably in the Foxhole in the afternoon, finishing a project due in a few hours and trying his best to ignore everybody. Matt had handed him his drink wordlessly, something Andrew could appreciate, but he could also feel the glances he and Dan kept shooting him.

It’s not like he’s going to start a fight at 2pm in the Foxhole, Jesus. There’s no need to. He’s not needlessly aggressive, something the others don’t seem to understand.

He’s just finished a rough draft when the door opens, momentarily distracting Andrew’s attention. He’s surprised to find the mystery boy walking in, backpack in place and wearing actual non-athletic clothes (although Andrew is amused to see him wearing almost aggressively non-descript jeans and a bland T shirt). The bags under his eyes are less noticeable this late in the day, but he looks on-edge nonetheless as he makes his way to the counter.

More surprising is the way that Dan strikes up a conversation immediately, the way that the boy actually responds to her. Granted, his responses are clipped, one or two words, but Dan seems used to this. Matt’s started on his drink before Dan rings him up, and there’s some kind of familiarity as he hands over his card.

And Andrew– well, he’s never considered if the boy comes into the Foxhole at any time other than the crack of dawn, but he’s clearly a regular. He and Matt exchange a few words before the boy leaves the shop, never noticing Andrew.

It doesn’t mean anything, that this boy looks so out of place all the time even as he tries to blend in, or that Andrew’s coworkers have somehow figured out how to get him to talk. It _doesn’t._

Andrew turns back to his project and pretends not to feel anything.

* * *

It never occurs to Andrew to wonder why the boy keeps coming back in the mornings, even though he never gets what he orders.

(It never occurs to Neil, either.)

* * *

The day before Thanksgiving, it’s surprising that the door opens after the grad student who always rants at Nicky about her thesis has settled in the corner. It’s just after opening, barely 5:30, and hardly anybody remains on campus over the break.

Mystery boy actually looks winded this morning, which is unusual and _definitely not a good look_ , dammit. He looks a million miles away as he orders, breaking his usual black coffee monotony for a tea and ignoring the joke that Nicky offers in return.

Andrew considers the boy, the unusually haunted look in his eyes, the dark circles around his eyes. His head is tipped back as he stares at the ceiling like it can somehow help him.

Andrew gives him what he orders, today. He looks like he could use it.

He exits the shop without a second glance, tea firmly in hand as he ignores Nicky. Andrew watches as he stills outside the cafe before settling down on the curb, seeming intent to study the sky as he sips at the tea.

“Nicky, I’m taking my break,” Andrew announces, tearing off his apron and hat and pulling on his jacket.

“What? It’s way too early for that!” Nicky protests as Andrew ducks under the counter.

“It’s not like we’re about to have a rush,” Andrew throws over his shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

He bangs the door open with some satisfaction. God, he hates the white and orange decor with every fiber of his being, but he knows he made a deal with Kevin to work there for at least the year.

The boy turns at the noise, barely looking surprised as Andrew pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and sits down next to him. Andrew offers him one and is slightly surprised when he actually accepts it– he didn’t expect a runner to be into smoking. He squashes the surprise as he lights them both up.

He watches out of the corner of his eye as the boy inhales the smoke. Weirdly, it looks like he doesn’t actually like the cigarette as much as the smoke. Dammit, why does he keep doing odd things like that?

Andrew contemplates the boy for another long moment before he decides to test him with an innocuous question.

“Why aren’t you home for break?”

The boy’s eyes widen as he takes a sip of his tea. Andrew is not at all satisfied at eliciting a reaction. He doesn’t speak for long enough that Andrew wonders if he’s not going to answer, if for some reason he only speaks to Matt and Dan. That would be annoying.

“What home?”

And _dammit_ if that answer doesn’t interest Andrew. He takes another drag, studying the mystery before him and trying to figure out if he might have found somebody worth his time, after all.

When Andrew returns behind the counter, his cigarette just a distant memory, he’s still mulling the boy over in his head.

* * *

Thanksgiving is as annoying as Andrew had expected it to be, as Nicky forces them to eat a home cooked dinner together, but Friday morning finds Andrew watching the door more attentively than he normally does.

When the boy comes in around 6:45, flushed but not drenched in sweat like he was on Wednesday, Andrew refuses to acknowledge that he feels anything other than slightly less bored.

“Someday, you’re going to actually have to tell me your name.”

“It’s Neil.”

 _Neil._ Andrew’s almost disappointed to finally have a name to put to the face, but the dull excitement over learning more about him wins out. He’s so distracted that he actually makes what Nicky calls his regular.

Andrew watches as Neil pauses outside the shop before dropping to the curb outside again. Andrew pulls off his hat and apron wordlessly.

“Have fun, Andrew!” Nicky calls behind him. Andrew sends him a scathing look in response, making a mental note to have another _chat_ with his cousin about interfering in his life later.

Neil doesn’t turn around as Andrew bangs the door open and Andrew wonders if he’s waiting for him to join him. He doesn’t like being predictable.

They smoke in silence for a few moments, Andrew studying the burns and scars on Neil’s face. He wants to hurt whoever hurt him, and that thought is almost more annoying than the idea of him becoming predictable.

He appreciates that Neil doesn’t feel a need to fill the quiet morning air with meaningless words, that he’s content to just inhale smoke beside Andrew without questions or explanations. Andrew, on the other hand, is itching to figure him out, so he tests the waters once more.

“What brought you into our humble establishment so early on Wednesday, _Neil?_ ”

Damn, there was way too much emotion in his voice that time, but Andrew hardly cares as Neil’s chilly blue gaze meets his own.

“It was my mother’s birthday.”

Neil looks back to the sky, apparently deeming that explanation enough, which it patently is fucking not. Andrew resists frowning as he tries to work that response out and watches as Neil leaves wordlessly a few minutes later.

* * *

Is his mother’s birthday a good thing? Did he want to wake up early to call her? Maybe she’s in a different time zone, like Europe or something, so Neil had to get up to get in touch with her. Then again, why isn’t he with her on her birthday? Maybe she’s dead. Damn, the _was_ is made vague by clearly referring to Wednesday, which is obviously in the past, but is it also no longer applicable because she’s dead?

Fuck, Andrew hasn’t paid this much attention to diction since English in high school, and even then, it seemed meaningless.

Why the fuck does he even give a shit about this annoying, overly mysterious boy and his vague answers?

Andrew gives four people the wrong orders to fuck with them, gets to watch strangers fight over it, and intentionally spills Nicky’s coffee on the floor, but he barely even feels happy about it.

Fuck Neil.

* * *

“Does a guy named Neil ever come into the shop when you’re on?” Andrew asks against his wishes later, as he and Kevin slide into the car. Groceries are an unavoidable necessity in the food desert that is campus during Thanksgiving break.

“Neil? Redhead, blue eyes?” Kevin replies. Andrew pulls into traffic, relishing the way that the car behind him honks aggressively.

“That’s the one.”

“Yeah, he comes in around 3 on Monday/Wednesday, usually. Never seen him with anybody, and he always orders a black coffee,” Kevin rattles off. His freaky memory for customers and their habits can, apparently, be used for good. “Why?”

Andrew contemplates not answering, and then having to put up with Kevin in a pissy mood the rest of errand. He shrugs.

“Just wondering. I like to give him the wrong drink.”

“God, you’re such a dick.” Kevin crosses arms and stares out the window. Andrew smirks.

* * *

Andrew can’t help himself– he’s slipping into his jacket before the Neil’s out the door.

“Stop harassing him, Andrew,” Nicky says as Andrew crosses the shop. “He seems like a nice guy.”

Andrew flips him off.

Neil turns to Andrew as he sits down, two cigarettes in hand. “Why did you mess up my drinks?”

Andrew knows he doesn’t hide his surprise as he takes a long drag of his cigarette. After all the time he’s unwillingly spent trying to figure Neil out, he didn’t expect this. He wonders if Neil is trying to figure _him_ out.

“Didn’t expect you to actually ask now,” he admits. Neil frowns.

“You don’t know me. You shouldn’t expect anything.”

Andrew stares into the icy depths of Neil’s eyes, thinking back to what he’s gathered about the cagey runner beside him. He thinks he does have a pretty good idea of what to expect, actually, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t curious to see where it goes.

“The first time, it was just to mess with you. But then you didn’t say anything, so I wanted to see what I had to do to make you actually snap. You know, what I gave you last week was basically just a vanilla latte.”

He continues to smoke, gazing blankly into the distance and not meeting Neil’s searching look.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” he says finally, trying not to read too much into the redhead’s actions.

“There’s no way you give people the wrong drink just to fuck with them. You’d never keep your job.”

Andrew shrugs. Neil’s underestimating his ability to pretend to forget orders, but he doesn’t need to correct that.

“Who says I want to keep my job?” Well, Kevin, for one. He takes another drag. Wonders how much he wants to admit. Wonders what he has to lose. “And I never said that I give _people_ the wrong drink. I just gave it to you.”

“What makes me special?” Neil asks. It’s irritatingly simplistic. _Special._

“You’re not _special_.” He wonders what he’s doing, why he keeps talking instead of heading back inside. “You might be interesting, though.”

Nothing. That’s what he has to lose.

Neil smiles. It’s the first time Andrew’s ever seen it, and it looks out of place on Neil’s pale face, like his facial muscles aren’t quite used to being happy. It makes Andrew unnecessarily irritated.

“Interesting, huh?”

“I hate you.”

And it’s true: Andrew hates every moment that he’s spent thinking about Neil, every time he’s watched Neil in the cafe and tried to understand him, every second he’s on the curb in the front of the cafe smoking when he should be working.

He isn’t sure why this one boy has somehow piqued his interest, made him think about anything but the unerring monotony of life, but he sure as hell doesn’t appreciate it.

“What makes me interesting, Andrew?”

Andrew glares at Neil, who looks genuinely confused. Who _wouldn’t_ be interested in this wonderful, annoying boy, who looks ready to run even now?

He lets the silence sit, stares at the sky and decides _fuck it_ as he tosses aside his cigarette.

“Yes or no?”

* * *

“You’re dating _Neil_? Like Parks-and-Rec-watching, I’m-fine  _Neil?_ ” Matt asks in horror, when Andrew stalks into the shop during finals, Neil on his heels.

“Parks and Rec?” Andrew asks, glancing at an embarrassed Neil. He does nothing to respond to Matt, ignores the thrill in his chest at the word _dating_.

Bee said it was progress, this whole unexpected-reactions-to-dumb-actions-and-words-relating-to-Neil thing. Andrew says it's annoying.

“One black coffee, please,” Neil says, ignoring both of them.

“I will not stand for this,” Matt declares, looking between the two of them. “Neil, you’re too nice for this. Andrew is–”

“I think I know who Andrew is,” Neil cuts in, raising his eyebrows. Andrew can’t look away. “One black coffee.”

“Ignore him,” Andrew interjects, turning back to Matt. “Two mocha fraps.”

“I hate you,” Neil mutters. Andrew flicks him on the side of the head. Matt watches in a mixture of horror and bemusement.

This, Andrew thinks, might just work out.

(Neil gets his coffee. Andrew gets the two fraps. Neil grudgingly drinks half the frap before Andrew agrees to kiss him. Andrew doesn’t try to suppress his smirk, and wonders if Bee would consider that progress.)

**Author's Note:**

> hahahaha writing andrew is so hard. i've definitely toned him down a lot here, esp at the end because i want to be sappy even if these boys don't want to be, but hopefully he's still recognizably himself? idk. thanks for reading!! let me know if there are any mistakes in the comments bc as per usual i've just written this and posted it without looking it over much
> 
> (and thanks for the responses last time! i hope this lived up to your guys's expectations)
> 
> (also what is coffee??? i do not drink it) (and lol @ a coffee shop on a college campus being open this early. all the food places at my school open SO LATE it's very annoying)
> 
> (also also feel free to come yell at me at my new tumblr, exysexual!)


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